Shadows of a Dream
by gusenitsa
Summary: Bellarke short stories: I've decided to turn this into a short story compilation because I have the desperate need to fix... that. Latest chapter: Oasis - Post 3x05 speculation about what might finally bring Bellamy and Clarke back together to the same side (because I just wanted that dang hug and canon didn't bring it fast enough)
1. Shadows of a Dream 1 of 3

_**No no no no no no no no... that's all I got after that last episode.**_

_**I don't normally write Bellarke... but I have to ... after that...**_

_**Inspired partially by a couple of tumblr posts by bell-xrke and albinowatermelon.**_

* * *

Bellamy was unconscious when they found him. Broken and bruised and half dead for lack of blood. He'd been inside for less time than the others, but somehow he looked the worst of them all.

They'd only managed to free a dozen or so of their people, and as many grounders. It was a tactical failure and they'd had to retreat. But Clarke couldn't help consider the operation a success when they laid Bellamy in her sickbay. Broken but breathing. Her mother was moving from bed to bed, but Clarke stayed with Bellamy. It was her fault this had happened. The least she could do was repair the damage as best she could and be there when he woke.

When he finally began to stir she'd already washed and bandaged the worst of the lacerations and splinted several broken fingers. She was doing another when suddenly his hand was ripped from hers. She looked up in both surprise and relief, but his eyes were wide and terrified.

"Not you," he murmured.

Clarke pulled back, momentarily stunned out of her relief by this response.

"God, Bellamy-" she muttered. The apology was on the tip of her tongue but she'd no time for it now. Not when he was looking at her like she had done this to him. (_she had done this to him...)_

He pulled as far away from her as he could.

"Abigail... Not you... Abby."

"Bellamy, I'm sorry... I ... just let me help you."

"GET HER AWAY," he roared, pulling so far back he crashed to the floor on the other side of the bed, crying out as the fall jolted his cracked ribs. Clarke dove forward to help but he just drew back further. Her mother hurried over, dropping to her knees next to him.

"It's alright Bellamy. You're back at sickbay, no one will hurt you here."

"Get her away," he repeated.

Abby nodded at Clarke, "I'll take care of him Clarke, why don't you help out with some of the other patients for now." Clarke backed away from Bellamy's bed. She moved on to the other patients but all the while she could feel the heat of Bellamy's glare shooting daggers into her back.

When the worst of the injuries had been tended to Clarke slipped outside the bay for a moments relief from the horrified stare she was getting from Bellamy. (He was right. She was poison. Wells was dead, then Finn and now nearly Bellamy. He was right to fear her.)

"Clarke? Honey?"

Clarke shook her head. "How is he," she asked her mother.

"Not good. He'll live but... I'm not sure he really knows where he is. There may be some kind of drug in his system inducing this paranoia. We'll have to wait and see if it clears his system. He's got a high fever on top of everything else. I've got him on a course of antibiotics, some of the lacerations were infected."

"I saw."

"Give him time, Clarke. People react to pain in many different ways-"

"I know."

Her mother finally left to get some food. Clarke refused to join her but she tried her best to smile when Abby kissed her on the forehead.

She avoided him for days. In the same sickbay but unable to speak to him. Unable to get closer than a few meters away from him without his entire body tensing as for a fight. He wasn't like this with anyone else. He hugged Octavia desperately when she came to visit him, holding her as tightly as he could with several cracked ribs. He traced his fingers over the healing bruises on her face with concern and she smiled and laughed and told him he was one to talk.

Once when Octavia was visiting Clarke had to change a bandage for the grounder on the bed next to Bellamy. Bellamy sat up, moving himself between Clarke and his sister. Physically blocking her off as she had seen him do so many times before to protect someone he cared about from a threat. Octavia chided him lightly that Clarke wasn't the enemy, but Bellamy ignored her and didn't back down until Clarke had moved a safe distance away.

Octavia made a point of giving Clarke a hug before leaving sick bay and Bellamy went pale.

The next time her mother left sickbay she finally moved and sat in the bed across from him. His eyes followed her suspiciously but he didn't flinch.

"I'm sorry Bellamy," she whispered. He didn't want to hear it, but she had to say it. He closed his eyes as if her words caused him physical pain. "I know this is my fault... I just want you to know I'm sorry."

His eyes remained closed and he clenched his unbroken hand. Finally he forced his eyes open to look at her. "It's not...that."

"Then what, Bellamy? Please, how can I help you?"

"Stay away from me."

"Please ... Please, just tell me why?"

He was silent again, eyes closed and jaw clenched tight. "I... Clarke, I'm sorry."

This was the one thing she was not expecting and she leaned forward slightly. "Talk to me, Bellamy. I didn't want you to get hurt. Surely you know that?"

He nodded.

"Then what? Why are you afraid of me?"

"I'm not... not exactly." He looked up at her but then looked away as though he couldn't stand to see her while he spoke. "I thought of you. In there."

"What do you mean?"

"When they came for me. When they hurt me...I thought of you. I shouldn't have thought of you but I did. Of what it would be like when you found me. How you would look, your hair spilling over your shoulders, how your hands would feel on my skin as you put me back together."

She wanted to ask him why he then refused to even look at her now, but she was afraid that if she spoke he would drive her away again.

"It was the only thing that kept me sane when everything else was falling apart. You were there with me. Holding me together." He opened his eyes, looking past her rather than at her. "Now when I see you... It takes me back there. And I wonder if I ever really got out."

"Oh, Bellamy," was all she could manage to say at first.

"I don't want your pity Clarke. I just... I need some time."

"Do you still want me to leave?"

"Yes ... and No."

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Clarke reached into her pocket. She pulled out a piece of string that she had used once or twice to pull her hair out of her face. Pulling her hair back she tied the string around a tight pony tail.

Bellamy was watching her carefully now, eyes wide in surprise. "I never saw you like that."

"Does it help?"

He nodded. "Yes... somehow, it does. Could you...come closer?"

She nodded, moving slowly to sit on the bed next to him which had been vacated a few hours earlier. He stiffened slightly but didn't retreat. The beds had been pushed close to make room for everyone so there was just enough space for someone to squeeze between the beds. Finally, she laid down on her side facing him.

"Can I try something?" he asked after a few minutes.

Clarke nodded and Bellamy reached across the short space between the beds. She extended her hand too and Bellamy clasped it tightly.

She squeezed back and he smiled, "we're going to be ok, Clarke, aren't we?"

Clarke nodded, "We're survivors. It's what we do."

Bellamy hadn't slept in days, but now the sleep deprivation, relief and pain medication turned out to be the perfect combination. When Abby got back from dinner they were both fast asleep, hands holding fast to each other.

* * *

**_Yup... it's all going to be all right guys. Right? Tell me it's going to be all right?_**


	2. Shadows of a Dream 2 of 3

**_Chapter 2 of 3_**

**_If you are likely to be upset by descriptions of what is essentially acute traumatic stress disorder then you may want to stop here, because that's exactly what's going on in Bellamy's head right now._**

* * *

Without the benefit of heavy pain medication it wasn't long before Clarke woke. Several hours must have passed because it was dark outside now, her mother had probably come and gone on her last rounds and Clarke was surprised that she hadn't woken her to help. Most of the patients were past any real danger, though. Several grounders remained bedridden under their care. They, like Bellamy, were recovering from broken bones, severe blood loss and dehydration.

And the dreams. Most of them had the dreams.

That is, when they slept at all.

In fact, it was one of those dreams that woke her. A grounder several beds away crying out from his sleep. Counter intuitively she found it was best not to wake them. Often they had no memory of a dream unless they woke during it. Still it wasn't easy to stay still and do nothing while they cried and moaned and begged for it to stop.

Bellamy still held her hand trapped under him. Not so much holding her hand but sleeping atop it and she could feel the tingling of lack of circulation. She pulled herself gently free and stretched her fingers until the tingling stopped. Her hair tie had come loose in her sleep and she pulled it out, (that was going to take some getting used to.)

The grounder was growing more agitated and he was fighting against his sheets as though they restrained him. Clarke got up and moved closer. His arm was in a sling... if he didn't calm soon she'd have to wake him to prevent him from injuring himself. He didn't calm, though, just getting more and more animated. Clarke moved to the side of the bed. She'd learned the first day that waking a man from one of these dreams with a touch was a dangerous idea. The first time she'd done so she'd nearly been impaled by a knife she hadn't realized he slept with.

"Shhhh," she said softly, trying not to wake the others. "You're safe here. Wake up, everything's fine." When this wasn't sufficient she grabbed a pillow from the next bed and nudged the man with it. He awoke with a start, grabbing the pillow, wrenching it from her grasp violently and burying a blade in it. "It's ok. You're safe here. Klir. Safe." The grounder's wild eyes flicked rapidly around the room for a few moments before he nodded jerkily at her and lay down again. Clarke made her rounds of the bay to ensure all was well, finishing up just as her mother returned.

"I just checked everyone," Clarke told her. "You can go back to sleep."

"Thanks... Bellamy seems improved?" her mother asked.

"The fever's gone. You've no idea how much I missed antibiotics before you landed."

"Not exactly what I meant," Abby said.

"He'll be fine."

"He tried to attack you the other day, when you got too close. Perhaps it would be wise to have him in restraints?"

"You can't strap him down! Not after what he's been though, are you insane?"

"I know he's been through a lot, Clarke, but if he's a danger to you... or to us-"

"He's a danger to whoever straps him down," Clarke retorted.

"I just don't want him to hurt you."

"Bellamy and I have been taking care of the kids you sent down here since the day we stepped off that ship. I will _not _strap him down, do you understand?"

"Fine," Abby acquiesced, hands raised, "Just be careful, alright?"

Clarke nodded. "Go back to sleep. I'm going to stay here for a while."

"You need to sleep too, Clarke. And I don't just mean a couple hours between shifts."

"I'm fine, I'm going to stay here a while longer."

"Clarke?" Abby said disapprovingly.

"This is my responsibility."

"You can't take responsibility for everything."

"I can when it's my fault."

"Then it's also your fault those 17 kids are back, remember." Abby put an arm around Clark and hugged her gently before leaving to get a few more hours sleep before morning rounds.

"She's right."

She glanced up to see Bellamy was awake and watching her from across the room. Clarke returned to the cot next to him but he stiffened and drew away at her approach. She glanced down at the hair tie wrapped around her wrist in frustration.

"Sorry," he said, not making eye contact with her. "I know it's... It's absurd-"

Clarke shook her head; she was about to tie her hair back again when she had another idea. She moved away from the cot to the box where her mother stored her surgical supplies.

"Clarke?" she heard Bellamy's concerned voice behind her but ignored him. She pulled her hair into a braid behind her head and then pulled a scalpel from the kit. Pulling the braid taut she began to slice the braid, gradually thinning it until she held it in her hand and what was left of her hair fell loose. She shook it out experimentally before returning to Bellamy's side where he was staring at her in amazement.

"You didn't have to do that, Clark."

"Does it help?"

"Yes."

"Then I had to do it. It was getting in my way anyway. So, what did you mean? What was she right about?"

"It was ... worth the risk. We got our people back because of you."

"Not all of them."

"That's because I didn't do my job," he mumbled.

"No. It's because Lincoln didn't do his," she corrected irritably.

"Octavia told you?"

"He's detoxing, Bellamy, did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"It was a mistake to ask him to go back in there."

"He was weak."

"He's a good man."

"You're only saying that because he's in love with your sister."

Bellamy chuckled softly, "More like in spite of him being in love with my sister... Thanks, by the way. For not letting Abby-" he glanced over at a nearby bed. A grounder who thrashed so much in his sleep they had sedated him and tied him down so he wouldn't hurt himself.

Clarke nodded, "how else would you have been able to sneak out in the middle of the night last night and acquire an M16 and 3 bowie knives."

He gave her his best look of innocent confusion and Clarke smiled. Sitting up and leaning over she pulled out the gun from under his bed and exposed the blade next to it. With a quick glance over the bed she discovered the second knife in the lining of the cot. "The third is under your pillow, right?"

Bellamy shrugged, "Can't blame a man for being prepared, can you Princess?" he asked teasingly.

Abby had insisted on no weapons for her patients after the first day when Clarke had nearly been gutted by a grounder having a nightmare. Clarke knew for a fact, however that every person in the room was still armed. No grounder would depend on the sky people to protect them. Neither would Bellamy, or Clarke for that matter.

"So," he finally said, reaching his good hand up through his hair. "How long are we going to not talk about this?"

"About what."

"About the maps. About Monty's plan."

"It's a ... work in progress. He is going over the maps he smuggled out." Bellamy didn't say a word so she continued. "There are a lot of inaccuracies to correct before we can find another way in."

"That's the plan? You're just going to go back in?" Bellamy asked flatly.

"Oh course I am... We have 31 people in there Bellamy."

"I know how many people are in there," Bellamy shot back angrily, voice rising. "You barely got out last time and now we've lost the element of surprise. You can't just waltz back in there with the same failure of a plan."

"It didn't fail. It just didn't quite succeed."

Bellamy groaned in frustration and Clarke glared. "That failure of a plan got you out, Bellamy. Have you forgotten that?"

"I haven't forgotten. That doesn't mean it was a good plan. Without your inside man the strategy fell apart. Coming in anyway was foolish."

"And what would you have done? Would you have left me to rot in there?"

Bellamy clenched his jaw, "You _weren't_ in there. But you bloody well will be if you go back. I'm _not_ going back in without a better way." Bellamy's raised voice was starting to rouse the other patients from their sleep.

"No one is asking you to go back," Clark hissed, glancing around."With three broken ribs I don't think you'd be a lot of help anyway, would you?"

"I'm sure as hell not sending you in my place!" his voice lowered slightly but the anger still dripped from every word.

"You don't send me anywhere, Bellamy." Clarke bit out, getting to her feet. "Sleep well," she hissed, spinning on her heal and leaving Bellamy fuming in his cot.

He didn't sleep well.

He never slept well anymore but certainly not now. She'd left nothing behind but a braid of hair and the pulse of adrenaline in Bellamy's ears and he just wanted to shake her. Shake her senseless until she understood. Shaking his head he sat up, clenching his arm over his midsection as a lance of pain slashed through him. He armed himself with pilfered weapons and dropped his legs over the side of the bed. He'd insisted on being given back his regular clothes the moment he could get himself into them again but he was still barefooted.

Clarke's doing probably; to make sure he doesn't go far. As if he hadn't been through worse. Now suddenly because they have a medical bay and fancy instruments she thinks she can cage him here and do whatever the hell she wants?

_Don't think you'd be a lot of help anyway,_ she whispered in his ear.

He glanced out into the hallway, checking for anyone following as he made his way out of the sick bay. The walls were too tight in there, the air too close... He had to get out of here. Get out.

He wasn't sure which way he was going, pick a direction at random and just go. Just move. Move. Run. Run through the pain in his chest with every breath. He hit a dead end though and he was forced to stop short, spinning around he picked a new direction.

Too close. They were coming. They would find him.

He pulled out his knife, gripping it tightly as he searched the twisted halls for a way out.

_Damn it._

He was going in circles.

Finally he smelled something. Fresh air. Grass... dew... freedom. He bolted down the hallway and kicked open the door. _Stars. Outside. Outside is safe. They can't follow me outside. _

He slipped into the shadows. The gate. Just 10 meters away and no Reapers in sight. He was home free... free-

"HEY! Hey, where are you going?"

Bellamy turned about to be met with the barrel of an M16. The guard was watching him warily, eyes flicking down to the naked blade in Bellamy's hand.

"Drop the weapon, kid. You don't want this."

Bellamy pounced, bringing up his blade to the guard's throat.

"How about you drop it," Bellamy growled, and the weapon clattered to the ground.

"Where is she?"

"She? She who?" the guard asked shrinking as far away he could before his back hit a wall and the chill of the knife bit into his skin.

"I heard her. I know you have her too. Tell me where she i-"

"Bellamy?" He heard Clarke's voice behind him again. But she wasn't here. She wasn't real.

"NO MORE TRICKS! I ASKED YOU A QUESTION!"

"Bellamy, let him go."

Bellamy shook his head. "You're not real. They have you too. How else would they have your voice... your voice in my head? WHERE DID YOU PUT HER!?"

A hand touched his shoulder and Bellamy jumped, giving the guard just long enough to pull out of his grip and land a blow solidly to Bellamy's solar plexus. He gasped, doubling over. Another blow and his chest exploded in agony. Pain shot through his cracked ribs, ripping through his chest and up his neck and leaving pinpricks of blindingly vivid light dancing in his eyes.

"Stop it, Leave him alone." Figures danced in his vision. Clarke was standing in front of him, over him, between him and the Reaper.

"Are you insane, he tried to kill me?"

"Clarke," Bellamy croaked, vision swimming, "Run... to the.. the drop ship."

"He doesn't know who you are, please just-"

The reaper dove forward again but Clarke blocked his blow.

"Go Clarke," he gasped, "run."

"Please, just give us some space ok. I got this."

The man disappeared and Clark knelt.

"It's ok. It's ok Bellamy, he's gone."

Lights still danced in his eyes but his breath was starting to return. "You have to get out of here."

"We're safe here, Bellamy. Look at me... Please... drop the knife."

His eyebrows furrowed in response. He hadn't realized he still held it and he loosened his grip when he felt Clark's fingers clutching his wrist gently. She pulled the knife away and dropped it to the ground. "Can you take a deep breath, Bellamy?" He tried, but anything more than a shallow gasp sent an echo of pain across his chest.

"Damn it," she muttered. Her fingers slipped under his t-shirt probing his ribs gently until he flinched away. "Can you stand? We need to get you back to medical. Now."

"We can't go back inside, Clarke. Safer on the ground."

"You're home. It's safe inside, ok? Can you stand?"

Bellamy nodded, pushing himself upright. Clarke put an arm around him to help him up but the moment he straightened white-hot pain shot through him and all went dark.

* * *

_**Whoops. I'm sure no one will mind the crazy guy running around with a knife trying to kill the reapers in Camp Jaha... **_


	3. Shadows of a Dream 3 of 3

"Welcome back. Can you take a deep breath?"

Bellamy opened his eyes and Abigail Griffin's face swam into view.

"How are you feeling?"

"What happened? Where's Clarke?"

"You tried to escape Camp. Got in a fight with a guard who decided to re-crack your ribs for you. Can you take a deep breath?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because you came very close to a punctured lung. Don't argue with me Bellamy. Just breathe in deeply." He did so, as deeply as he could before his chest tightened.

"Not bad."

* * *

"Where's Clark?"

"Try to breathe deeply as often as you can. It will lower your risk of developing complications."

Bellamy sat up stiffly, eyes narrowing as Abby ignored his question. "Where is your daughter?"

"She'll be back soon. You should get some rest." Bellamy's face went ashen.

"You let her go back there... didn't you?"

"I tried to stop her, but she's... she's stubborn."

Fear was suddenly replaced by anger on Bellamy's features. "You've seen what they do to people and you sent her back in there?"

"Have you met my daughter?" Abby retorted, "I didn't send her anywhere. She garnered a grounder army and organized a coup."

He smiled a half smile in spite of himself; of course she did. "When did they leave?" He struggled to sit up but Abby held him down by one shoulder, embarrassingly easily.

"They left three days ago."

"Three days? he cried, leaving no doubts as to his lung capacity now. "Have you sent anyone after her?"

"I'm sure they'll be back any time now."

"Do you know what they'll do to her if they catch her? You saw my wounds, the chemical burns. They lock us in cages, metal so they conduct electricity. Why do you think they do that, Abby? Damn it, she should have waited."

"You take another blow like that and you'll puncture a lung. You needed to heal; she knew that. Why do you think you just woke up now? She pumped you full of so much sedative we thought you'd be out a week." His eyebrows shot up but Abby continued. "I'm sorry, Bellamy. This is for your own good."

"You're sorry? You allowed your own daughter to go off to be tortured and killed and you're sorry?" He felt a pinch and glanced down to see a needle in his thigh. "What did you do?"

"I promised her I would keep you from going after her. This will... help you sleep."

"I don't need to sleep! I need to get out of here." He could already feel the sedatives effects like a weight on his shoulders. "Abby... Abby please, stop this."

"She'll be back, Bellamy. She'll be back when you wake."

His eyelids were drooping in spite of the panic seizing his mind, and ever so slowly the darkness took over again.

* * *

He knew he was awake because it hurt too much to be a dream. He could hear voices, jumbled together, frantic tones but most of the words were unfamiliar. Grounders? He clenched one hand, just to see if he could, and he felt his fingers respond.

Clarke?

He forced his eyes open but everything was too bright. The world pitched and swayed together as his eyes acclimated to the light.

She left. She went back without him. Abby said she'd be back when he woke. Was it a hope or a promise? If he could just open his eyes he would see her. She'd be asleep in the bed next to him, hair too short with a new scar or two, perhaps. His eyes gradually got used to the light and he turned his head to the bed next to him.

It was occupied, but not by Clarke. (At least this time she didn't spit in his face...) Bellamy sat up slowly; the med bay was full to bursting. Harper was two beds down, Monty three past her. His eyes flicked bed to bed. She isn't here. Wasn't in a bed, wasn't in the med bay at all. His unbroken hand was tied to the bed. Abby's doing, most likely. But when he tugged, the knot came loose easily. His ribs throbbed as he stretched out but the pain no longer came in nauseating bursts. How long has it been?

He stumbled out into the hallway, several people called at him to stop but he ignored them, rushing down the hall in a semi-delirious haze. Where would she be? The command center. She'd be in the command center (If she wasn't in the ground...) He finally reached what passed for a command center in Camp Jaha and several surprised faces looked up as he burst through the door. She wasn't here. She wasn't in the med bay... He focused in on one surprised face.

Abby.

Charging forward he slammed her back into a wall.

"I could have helped. We did this together, we kept these kids alive together and you... you kept me from helping her." Guards were trying to pull him away but he shook them off. Perhaps Kane would order them to shoot him. He didn't care. All he cared about was making Abigail Griffin understand this was entirely her fault.

"BELLAMY STOP!"

He froze, turning slowly. The guards backed away and Clarke let the door close behind her. She held her hands up, unsure if he was himself. Releasing Abby, Bellamy raced across the room, knocking Clarke back a step or two as he wrapped her in a bone-crushing hug.

"You're back..." he murmured into her neck, "You're alive."

"I'm fine." Her voice lowered slightly as she gave him a light squeeze. "Come on, before they decide to arrest you again, ok?" Abby was giving Clarke her favorite 'we'll-talk-later' look as she hurried Bellamy out into the hallway.

"You drugged me," he said accusingly as she shut the door quickly behind them.

"I did," Clarke said, her chin raised defiantly. Bellamy looked her over carefully. Her hair was still short; there were old mostly-healed scars across her left eyebrow, down one side of her nose and across one cheek. There was a newer, deep gash across her other cheek, blood in her hair and dark circles under her eyes... And God... he wanted nothing more than to press her against the door to the command center and kiss her senseless.

He raised his fingers to her cheek tracing the new wound lightly, "how many?"

"Thirty-one," she said with a smile, "plus several dozen grounders, Maya and an ex-president we have to figure out what to do with. He's been in the air lock… I suppose given that he helped get us out of there, perhaps we could arrange a series of voluntary transfusions, he may be use-" Bellamy laughed suddenly and Clarke stopped short. "What's so funny?"

"Thirty-one. You got all thirty-one, half a grounder army and their president. While I napped."

"I had help."

"You should have had my help." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, "God, Clarke, you are the most stubborn, infuriating, beautiful, frustrating woman ... I swear, if you overthrow this camp and storm Mt. Weather without me again you and I are gunna have a problem. Got that?"

Clarke grinned, "And you really should make sure I'm really dead before you try to murder my mother again."

"Deal. Tell me something, Princess?" he asked, reaching out to grab her arm as she moved to walk back toward medical.

"What?"

"The drugs, the sedatives...whatever else you and your mother injected into me over the last few days... they all gone now?"

"Yes, Why? Are you in pain, do you need-"

He leaned forward and cut her off with a kiss. Her arms dropped to her sides for a moment in surprise before he pulled her closer with one arm and her mind seemed to catch up with what was happening. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around his neck raising herself onto her toes as he deepened the kiss. When he finally pulled away he was grinning like an idiot and she felt herself responding with a chuckle of her own. "Why did you ask me about the medicine first?" she asked, a little breathlessly.

"I wanted to be absolutely sure I'd remember that," he replied, tightening his arms around her waist.

"This... this could complicate things, Bellamy," Clarke murmured worriedly, "Getting attached... it's ... dangerous. We can't risk being weak."

"I am weak."

"What?" Clarke asked, surprised by his declaration.

"If that's weakness than I'll own it. Because I would have done anything to follow you back to that camp, broken ribs be damned."

"You'll get yourself killed, Bellamy."

"Says the one who tranquilized her co-leader and marched into the dragons den with just the grounders for backup."

"It had to be done."

"Why?"

"You would have followed me."

"So what? You know I could have helped. Taken a few of them down with me if it came to a fight."

"Bellamy-"

"What?" His tone was harder than normal but he didn't loosen his arms from around her and she didn't pull away.

"Don't make me say it again," she said softly.

"Fine," Bellamy acquiesced "but you're wrong. It isn't weakness. It's how we survive down here and why."

Clarke opened her mouth to speak but she was interrupted by a commotion of cries echoing through the hallway from the direction of the gate.

"What now?" she muttered in irritation. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, mentally preparing herself for the worst.

Bellamy placed a light kiss on her forehead before letting her go. "Right behind you, Princess," he commented, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips. To his surprise Clarke did not release him, instead leaning in for one more kiss.

"I will hold you to that, Bellamy"

* * *

**_I'm not sure if I'll be doing more the 100 stories. If so they'll probably be shorts like this one. Perhaps I'll turn this into a compilation of short stories like I did with 'Spinning Yarns'...We'll see!_**

**_Either way, Thanks for reading this one. Hope you enjoyed it, (looks like we're in it for the slooooooow burn with Bellarke, but I have every faith it will pay off in the end.) Don't forget to review and let me know how I did on my first shot at Bellarke :)_**

**_Counting down to Wednesday... See you at the Aftermath!_**


	4. Oasis

_**I cracked. I'm turning this into a short stories compilation because dang it canon makes my heart hurt right now. **_

_**It's ok guys, I fixed it: Pike finally goes to far and Bellamy gets his bloody act together. Angst and bittersweetness warning.** _

* * *

**_Oasis._**

_This can't be happening. _

_This can't be happening. _

_Your sister. Your Responsibility. _

He'd gone too far this time... _Damn you Pike. _He could still remember the look on Octavia's face... The disgust. The _fear_.

_"You are dead to me."_

_Your sister; Your responsibility. _

"For the greater good," Pike had insisted, but he miscalculated. Bellamy had spent a month deferring to Pike's conception of the 'greater good' but this... there was no greater good than Octavia. Not to Bellamy.

So he clenched his fist against the urge to bloody the man's smug face and nodded, only to sneak out of camp moments later. He'd found her cradling Lincoln's body with tears on her face; he was alive but only just. An ambush. And they both knew who had sent them there. Before he'd even time to open his lips she was on him, all furious fists and eyes more fiery than the flames that burned around her. He still carried her marks, the bruises from her blows, the scars from her blade.

_"You are dead to me."_

The roar was loud in his ears, the flames licking at his back. How had everything gone so wrong? So wrong. The evenings shadows fell and still he ran, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should stop, figure out where he was and ensure he was going the right direction-

_The right direction._

But he ran like a man being chased. He wasn't sure how long he ran, but it grew dark and he stumbled on, picking his way through the landscape, stumbling on tree roots the smell of blood on his hands that was his ... this time.

When the light of dawn finally broke, he stumbled less, though exhaustion still tugged at him. He finally came to a clearing, a tall tower growing in his sight. Then he was falling, a sharp pain on the back of his head making him see stars before he managed to turn, rolling out of the path of a blade burying itself where his head had been moments before.

Titus, Lexa's... protector?

He didn't have any longer to put the man in context before he was charging again, Bellamy just managing to doge the blow in his exhausted state.

"Stop" he called, raising his hands, "I don't want to hurt anyone I just need to see-"

"You don't want to hurt anyone?" Titus scoffed, "You who destroy your own allies?"

This time when Bellamy tried to dodge the blow Titus moved, kicking and landing a blow on Bellamy's right leg that brought him to the ground. The blows came faster now, and in his exhausted state Bellamy could do no more than take them, until he saw a glint of metal. He reached up and caught the man's arm, stopping the blade a hair from his throat. For a moment they were locked in an impasse, Bellamy with just enough strength left to hold back the blade but not enough to throw off the man.

_"Hod...op! Stop!"_

_Clarke._

Titus hesitated, and Bellamy used his hesitation, shifting himself just enough to get the leverage to throw the man off of him. But he underestimated his exhaustion... he wasn't fast enough. He felt a burning as the blade gashed the side of his neck, the sudden gush of blood making him lightheaded.

A second voice joined the first, colder, and more authoritative. He didn't understand these words, but Titus did not return and Clarke's face swam into view. He heard the sound of ripping fabric and a pressure on his neck.

"Who is with you?" Clarke asked suspiciously.

"No one," he whispered, his voice came out strangely gruff and he coughed shooting pain from his neck down his spine.

"Bellamy, if you are lying to me-"

"I'm alone," he couldn't tell if she believed him, her face faded in and out of focus and he closed his eyes, feeling sick.

"Bellamy- hey, open your eyes. I can't carry you and I'm pretty damn sure no one else around here is going to. We have to get you out of sight."

"I can walk," he insisted, ignoring the fact that even opening his eyes seemed like a trial at the moment. She helped him sit up and his vision went dark for a moment, the world spinning and making the nauseous feeling intensify.

"How far?" he asked.

"Not far, but we have to get you out of sight before someone decides to finish the job."

She helped him, not into the tower but into one of the surrounding buildings, ordering the occupant to fetch her supplies in a no nonsense voice that sent the man scurrying to do as she asked.

Finally alone, his exhaustion hit him full force and he crumpled, sinking to the floor. She knelt with him, keeping pressure on the wound and calling something to the man outside.

"You better not pass out on me Bellamy Blake, because we have a lot to talk about."

"m' sorry."

"Bellamy- Damn it Bell-"

* * *

When he woke he was still on the floor, but a tightness at his neck told him he'd been out for long enough for Clarke to bandage his neck, the pain of which had dulled to a background throb.

His vision cleared and he blinked several times- before trying to sit up.

"Stay still-"

He realized Clarke was still there, bandaging up his hands with a grim look on her face.

"Cla-"

"Not now-" she said, voice softer than before. "Just let me do this, then I'll decide whether I'm going to kill you."

She finished tying off the bandage in silence, her fingers moving over his skin to check that she hadn't missed anything with a cold, professional efficiency before she finally met his eyes.

"You ready to sit up?"

He nodded, then winced, making a mental note not to do that for a while. Clarke helped him sit up and turn so he could rest against a wall before she spoke again.

"What the hell are you doing here, Bellamy?" she asked.

"I screwed up."

"No kidding?" she responded, exasperation in her voice.

"Octavia. Pike tried to have her and Lincoln killed-"

Clarke's eyes widened with worry, "is she-"

"Yes, But Lincoln. He was badly hurt. I just wanted..." He leaned his head back against the wall. "I just wanted to protect her. To protect them. Clarke how did this all go so wrong-"

She sighed, shifting to sit in front of him "It went wrong a long time ago, Bell." He winced at the familiar name, Octavia's pet name, that he certainly wouldn't be hearing from her lips anytime soon. "Bellamy-"

His eyes were distant, looking right through her. "I try to help, I try to protect her, protect them, and you... and all I do is hurt. I told you I was a monster...You should have let me go."

"No. I shouldn't have. We're in this together remember."

"Not anymore. You left, Clarke. We haven't been in this together for months." His eyes shone bright and his voice was shaky. "I'm sorry... Clarke. I thought Pike would protect them. I thought-"

"Bellamy," Clarke leaned in and wrapped her arms around Bellamy's shaking shoulders, "I shouldn't have left you to deal with this alone."

"I forgive you," he whispered in her ear.

"And I you," Clarke replied.

Bellamy let out a course chuckle. "You can't forgive what I've done."

"I can," Clarke said she pressed her head into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. "Who we are and who we've become to survive... they're different. You told me that."

Clarke finally pulled away so she could meet his eyes. She felt a sudden pang of loss for the boy who she'd met on that drop ship. He was an ass, who cared only for his sister; but he didn't have this, this grief and guilt etched into every line of his face. She wondered if he saw the same thing in her eyes.

"Clarke, I don't know what to do next." he whispered, "It's all so screwed up now, it's all-"

"Well figure it out. Together."

"Do we have to figure it out right now," he asked, echoing his own words from a time he never dreamed that he would think of as simpler.

Clarke gave him a shaky smile and leaned closer, curling into his side. He wrapped his arms around her and for a few moments they let themselves forget. Wrapped in each other's arms, they could forget the coming of war and the breaking of friendships. For a time, just a short time, they could forget the smell of blood and the screams of the dying.

For a time, just a short time.

* * *

_**Leave a review? Lift my heart from this bleak bellarke desert...**_


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